


There is Nothing Like a Dame

by Shadow_Belle



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Avengers Tower, F/M, Fluff and Smut, angst only if you squint, gentleman doesn't mean neutered, not a virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-01 03:44:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2758337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadow_Belle/pseuds/Shadow_Belle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is nothing like a dame--at least not a dame like Darcy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is my first Darcy/Steve fic. But this ship is total crack. I can't get enough. I actually stumbled on it looking for Darcy/Thor because Jane bugs me. But I love this so much more. Anyway, I had to write my own to fill in the spaces where there's no new works to read. You only have yourselves to blame. *grin* Write faster. Or I'm going to keep doing this.

**CHAPTER ONE**

 

Steve Rogers may have been a man out of time, but he was still very much a man. He had wants and desires, and none of them were for baseball, apple pie, or Chevrolet.

  
The modern world had bought the Captain America PR campaign lock, stock, and smoking barrel—and consequently had applied that to the man underneath the uniform. Polite didn’t mean innocent, and gentleman didn’t mean neutered.

  
But that’s what everyone seemed to think. Clint and Tony both thought he was a virgin. He’d been inundated with fanmail from women who’d sworn it was their patriotic duty to “punch his v-card.” He wasn’t going to hold a press conference to explain to the world at large that he’d lost his virginity to a brothel.

  
The whole brothel. Not just one prostitute, but one right after the other in a three day mission. His virginity, or lacktherof had been Top Secret. They’d wanted to test the limits of his super-serum—and test them they had. He probably knew more about carnal relations than the Kama Sutra. 

But no, everyone wanted to shove him into this little labeled box. Which he guessed he was okay with, because yeah, the press conference about his train and the number of tunnels… not happening. 

Although, he had learned he was immune to STDs and his semen cured the Clap. He hadn’t appreciated the intentional exposure to infection just to see. He couldn’t imagine living with that forever. Whenever he thought things couldn’t get any worse, he reminded himself that an immortal strain of the Clap was a very real possibility and then being grateful for what he did have (or didn’t in this case) wasn’t so very hard. 

But what was hard? His cock. Rock fucking hard. That curvy little ball of noise and sarcasm who looked like a walking pinup had just darted past and he could smell the faint hint of her perfume, her conditioner and another scent that was uniquely her. It was sweet and feminine, and made his mouth water. Although, he was sure she wouldn’t appreciate being thought of in the same breath as the Clap. He was glad she wasn’t psychic. That would be awkward. 

Every time he caught scent of her, it was the same. He was surprised his desk was on four legs instead of five. The super serum made everything bigger. _Everything._

He leaned back in his chair and caught a flash of pink. She was wearing a cotton candy pink sweater that looked soft as a kitten. His fingers itched to touch it, and not just because of the enticing way it stretched over her generous breasts. He loved everything about the way she looked. The long, black pencil skirt that accentuated her already dangerous curves—especially since she’d put on just a little bit of weight. It had gone to all the best places. He loved the way her hair curled over the pale expanse of her cleavage, her bright red lips that he couldn’t stop imagining wrapped around his cock and her hands. 

Her hands were so small, so soft, but he knew they could bring a man or alien low with that taser she carried in her bag. She was the embodiment of the ultimate fantasy woman for Steve—all kinds of delicious, but with a sharp edge. Much like his favorite candy—sweet and tart all at the same time. 

Yes, he even liked her sharp little tongue. He loved watching her cheeks flush and her eyes flash while she gave someone a set down that they righteously deserved. She was fearless. 

Steve would admit to wishing she was just a little less so. Not so he could play hero, although he wouldn’t mind being the one to save the day—to have her pressed against— _no_. He just wanted her to be safe. To take a little more care with herself. 

Like last week when a rogue faction out of Croatia had kidnapped her on the way to work to try to blackmail Stark. She stood there, hands on her hips, lecturing them about how this really wasn’t what they wanted to do. She’d shown no fear and Steve, well, he thought for sure they were going to kill her. Fear had tightened in his gut like coiled serpent. Thor had crushed the guy’s head with his hammer, leaving nothing but a stain on the subway wall before he’d had a chance to do permanent damage. And she’d seemed singularly unfazed. 

Although that moment when her eyes locked with his, he saw so much in her eyes. He’d drowned there and he just wanted to make her safe, keep her safe. 

Actually, he was still supposed to be writing his narrative about what happened. He’d figured out the laptop, it was actually a much smoother process than a typewriter. But he’d admit that he kind of missed the sound that the keys made when they splashed a new character on that clean white paper. 

All he was doing was recording facts, but he still found himself staring at the blank screen. He kind of wished something else would blow up so he’d have something to do, some way to try to channel this kinetic energy and get his mind off of Darcy Lewis and his dick. 

“Hey, Captain Muscl-y. You got a sec?” The object of his current obsession peered back around the corner of the doorway to his office. 

He was struck again by the scent of her and his flagging erection was once again at full salute. “Sure, Darce.” 

So she _did_ notice his body. It was a good body. He knew what he looked like naked. 

She rewarded him with a smile. “That’s much better. Last time with all the ma’aming, I was worried.” 

“I think I’ve picked up the cadence and slang of this decade fairly well. But I still like to be polite.” 

“Of course you do. And, um—“ she pressed her velvet lips together tight for a moment “—if you wanted to keep some of your old timey phrases, there are those of us that wouldn’t mind.” 

“Including you?” He just wanted to make sure he was reading her signals loud and clear. 

“Duh, me.” She grinned and her cheeks flushed just the tiniest bit. “I kind of like that whole dollface business.” 

“I’ll make you a deal. You keep dressing like a pinup and I’ll keep talking to you like one. Work for you, dollface?” 

He loved seeing the color in her cheeks. Yeah, she liked it. She more than liked it. Steve flashed her a grin. 

“Yeah, Captain Muscle-y. It does.” She pressed her lips together again and set down the coffee she had in her hand. “I actually came here for this.” She nudged it at him. 

“To bring me coffee?” He raised a brow. “Not to go looking a gift horse, Darce, but it’s not going to tase me, is it?” That’d just make his hard on, well, harder. He didn’t need that. Not that he was into that or anything, but he’d already learned it was an involuntary response from that time he’d startled her in the archive. 

She leaned against his desk, half sitting on it. Her scent wrapped around him and he didn’t care if she tased him. It would be worth it, just to sit this close to her. And her laugh, it was deep and throaty, all sex-pot. “No. You’d have to worry if you were Clint.” Her eyes narrowed dangerously. “He’s got about one-hundred twenty volts coming for that last prank. And I’ll get him. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… but soon.” Then her face changed as she gave him a soft, shy smile. “I just wanted to thank you.” 

“For what?” He was happy to be thanked, happy to spend this time with her, but he wanted to know what he’d done right so he could do it again. 

“Last week.” It seemed like this was hard for her to say. 

“I didn’t do anything. It was Thor who saved you.” He was glad that Thor had saved her, but he couldn’t help but wish it had been him. 

“No, it was you.” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He’d been there, but he’d done nothing to help except decoy. “I was just there to keep their attention while someone else did the hard work. Kind of like the last war.” He hated that he was a dancing monkey. Granted that hadn’t been the whole of his service, but that’s what they wanted from him. That’s what Stark wanted from him. They wanted him to be the face of the Avengers. All-American PR stunt goodness. 

“Seeing you there, it was like I knew everything would be okay then. Nothing bad could possibly happen to me with you there. So it helped me stay calm. The way you were looking at me, it was like a promise.” 

Yeah, it had been a promise to himself. One he couldn’t keep. He’d sworn once he’d gotten her to safety, she’d never go through anything like that again. But he had no control over her—even if she was ever his girl. She made her own choices. 

“Is that stupid? That’s stupid. I’m going to shut up now.” 

“No,” he rushed to reassure her. “It’s not stupid.” And he decided to confess. She needed the words more than he needed to keep them silent. “It was a kind of promise, but it was a lie.” 

“How’s that?” She was smiling again. He loved her smile. 

“I promised that once I got you to safety, I’d never let anything like that happen to you again.” 

He expected her to rebel against the sentiment, inform him that this wasn’t 19-Opression and that women didn’t need to be protected or coddled and she’d do as she pleased. He’d obviously been on the other end of _that_ scolding more than once. As had Thor, to be fair. 

“So you’re the one responsible for my move to the tower?” She arched a brow. 

“The blame is Thor’s too.” 

She laughed. “It’s rather nice, actually. Thank you. But you still haven’t told me how it was a lie.” 

“I can’t protect you all the time. Especially if I can’t tell you where you can and can’t go. I suppose I could tell you, but I doubt you’d listen. So I can’t say that nothing like that will ever happen again. I can’t guarantee I’ll always be there.”   
She put her hand out and clasped his shoulder in the manner of war heroes and drinking buddies. “You should probably remember that applies to the rest of the world, too, you know?” 

He realized that was the problem with the narrative he was trying to write. He felt like he should always be there and that made framing things a much different animal. 

“You’re still writing your narrative? The new SHEILD liaison was bugging me about getting you guys on the ball with that. How about I just write it for you? I bullshit my way through a whole semester of criminal justice studies.” She grinned. “My way of saying thanks. Coffee is a miracle, but doesn’t quite express my gratitude.” 

“No thanks needed, ma’am. Just doing my job.” He let the persona fade away. “But if you insist, I won’t say no.” 

“You really shouldn’t give me that kind of power, Steve.” 

Damn, but he liked hearing his name on her lips. Even if it was a threat. He wanted to know what it sounded like while he was between her thighs. 

Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a very Captain America thought. Not at all. And if Darcy had offered to do her patriotic duty, well… he couldn’t say he wouldn’t take her up on it.


	2. Chapter 2

 

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

“You should totally do him for King and Country, Darce.”

“Jane!” That didn’t sound like her friend, but her relationship with Thor had made Jane a bit more—aware of bodily needs. She was still shit at remembering to eat, but other matters, like sex, were much more prescient.

“Oh come on, it’s not like you haven’t been thinking it. I’m tired of seeing you sighing all over yourself. It’s the simplest way from point A to point B. Get it out of your system.”

“I don’t think that Steve Rogers is one of those guys that ever get out of your system. He’s _nice_. And utterly boy-next-door hot.”

“So, totally not your type.” Jane arched her brows.

“I think there’s something wrong with me.” Darcy spread her arms out over her desk like she was hugging it and then perked again. “I mean, I don’t buy that virgin crap from a minute. I don’t know who started that rumor, but puh-lease. A guy that looks like that? No way.”

“Maybe he’s saving himself for marriage.” Jane replied with no small amount of glee.

“Why would you say that?” She was horrified by the prospect and banged her head on the desk softly, to make her point.

“To hear you make that sound.” Jane didn’t even look up from the device she was tinkering with.

“I listened to you go on about Thor and his hammer for ages. Remember watching all those chick flicks at my house and eating cheesecake? You owe my thighs, dude.”

“Your thighs are just fine. Or I bet he thinks they are. He’s never given any of the girls who throw themselves at him a second look, but you… his eyes are always on you. I’m surprised your panties haven’t melted right off from laser like intensity of his stare.”

“He does not. Does he?” She cocked her head to the side. Was it possible that Steve Rogers wanted to do all the bad things to her that she wanted to do to him? “Look, I don’t want to be like… confused.” Darcy sat up and rested her chin on the bowl of her hands. “You know how a girl gets saved and gets all moist for a man when really it wasn’t any more to him than his job. Like a firefighter or a cop or something.”

“You could ask him.” Leave it to Jane to be the voice of oh-so reasonable, well, reason.

“I could not. And die of embarrassment? Or wonder if he only took me out because he didn’t want to hurt my feelings? No.” That would be the worst ever.

“Or you could come up with some silly scheme that’s bound to backfire when you just could’ve asked him in the first place.”

“That one. That’s the one we’ll do.” Darcy nodded emphatically.

“Well, what’s your plan then?” Jane still hadn’t looked up from what she was doing.

“I hadn’t gotten that far.”

“I could have Thor talk to him?”

“No, no, and hell no. This isn’t high school.”

“No, it’s worse. This is the Avengers. They are gods, superhumans, and misfits. None of us do normal. I mean, look at Tony. Do you think he and Pepper had a normal courtship? Or Nat and Clint.”

“Nat.” She sighed. “I wish I could be more like her. She’d just run up to him and clamp her legs around his face and say, ‘fuck me hard’ and he’d say yes ma’am.” Darcy shivered with anticipation. “Oh, why did I tell him to stop ma’aming me again?” That could be really hot. She imagined him bursting into her bedroom, she hadn’t decided if he was wearing his uniform or not, and saying he needed to save her from her own lust and yes ma’aming her all the way to multiple orgasms.

“Who is supposed to be fucking me?” Natasha asked, dropping down into the room from an air vent.

Jane was nonplussed and Darcy tried not to piss her pants. “You scared the piss out of me.”

Nat grinned. “Yeah, Clint said I couldn’t sneak up on you without getting tased. Point, Widow.” She arched a brow. “But back to this most scintillating conversation.”

“Captain Sexypants.” Jane was still stoic. Nothing affected her. Half of her brain was having the conversation, the other half was doing formulas creating new ways of transdimensional travel, and her second brain, well, it was all about Thor. Darcy was sure she had more than one brain… had to with all she had going on up there.

Nat nodded, her expression sympathetic. “True. If I wanted a roll in the flag with him, I’d just tell him. Clint says he’s a virgin.”

“I don’t think so. He was on tour with chorus girls. You can’t tell me one or two or four of them didn’t end up in his bunk. I know I would’ve.”

“Are you going to put the sparkle in his spangle?” Nat teased.

Darcy blushed. “I don’t know. Isn’t it like, treason to debauch Captain America or something?”

Natasha seemed to consider this seriously. “I’m not sure. But he won’t go out with any of the girls I’ve tried to set him up with and you know, I’m rather good at matchmaking.”

Darcy considered this. “Try me.”

“I’d love to, but I kind of have a thing with the big guy tonight.” The Russian assassin looked very pleased with herself.

Darcy grinned. “You’re great for a girl’s ego, Nat. That’s for sure.”

“I’m great for everyone’s ego.” Nat eyed her. “When I want to be. You know what? Next time I will suggest you and I’ll report back.” She gave Darcy a mock salute.

“Unless he says I’m a horrible troll, then I don’t need know that. Lie like tile and tell me he got his face caught in the microwave or he’s taking Bavarian Mountain Goat Dancing lessons or something.”

“He’s not going to say you’re a troll. Even if you were. He’s too nice for that.” Jane supplied.

Darcy’s face hit the desk again.

“You know, Jane, it’s a rather fucked up state of affairs when I’m better at this girlfriending crap than you are.” Nat sighed and turned her attention back to Darcy. “You’re not a troll. You’re gorgeous. If he doesn’t ask you out, I’ll teach you that thigh trick.”

“I just like it when she flops on the desk like that. She gave me so much grief about Thor.” Jane interjected.

“It’s true, I did,” Darcy agreed.

“Payback’s a bitch,  _da_ ?”

“ _Da_ .” She couldn’t help but agree with that as well. “But can you teach me the thigh trick anyway?”

“You got it. Gym? Say around five tomorrow morning?”

“Five?” she squeaked.

“Some of us have the world to save,  _malenkaya_ .” Nat winked at her, before climbing back up into the vent.

“She does know how hot it is when she speaks her mother tongue, doesn’t she?”

Darcy spent the rest of the day tooling around in the archives, organizing and labeling things to her satisfaction. She was the only one who ever went down there, so why not? She didn’t have anything else to do except obsess about Steve and that shit just wasn’t acceptable. So labeling files it was.

Well, she could’ve been writing his narrative. But she’d do that later. During scheduled Steve-Obsessing time. She’d be productive while being a spaz—multitasking.

She went to bed early, but five o’clock still came way too early.

And way too Steve.

The hell was he doing in the gym that early? And why the hell did he already look so good? He was probably one of those who woke up looking good. Bastard.

She was wearing no makeup, her hair was in a raggedy pony tail, her eyes were only half open and her clothes. Damn it. She was wearing a ratty t-shirt and yoga pants. She was in troll territory for sure.

Natasha, well, she smirking like a cat that had just downed _two_ canaries. She was dressed the same as Darcy herself, but somehow managed to look good too.

Darcy decided she hated everyone and was going back up to her apartment and crawling under the covers for another hour and a half.

“I asked Steve to be your dummy. You need someone to practice on.”

Darcy just nodded. She was officially in hell. He got to watch her make a total ass out of herself. And wrap her thighs around his face. That was a plus, but there wasn’t going to be any good associations there. It was going to be an awkward plate of awkward pie.

“So, I’m going to do it, then you’re going to do it.”

“Wait, isn’t there some sort of… study period?”

“No,” Nat laughed. “How do you think you’re going to learn? Hands on, kitten.”

And Steve, for his part, just stood there, all Captain America impressive.

“I’m sorry, “she said to him. “This is going to—”

“Darce, you’ve already tased me.” He flashed her a wholesome smile that went straight to her clit. “You’re helping me, help you.”

A smile shouldn’t do that to her. And OH MY GOD, she was expected to fling her legs around his face? She wondered if her bits would try to kiss him before the rest of her. Like it was somehow not part of her, a creature with its own autonomy.

_Get a grip on yourself. You are Thor’s lightning sister. You live in the Avengers’ Tower. You’re learning self-defense from THE Black Widow. Act like it._

That steadied her just a bit. But still. Her thighs. His face. That would give any woman pause. Except Natasha.

And from anyone else, she might have thought that was a line, about helping him help her, but she remembered their conversation from the day before. He wanted her to be able to protect herself.

Yeah, great. He was here to help her and all she could do was think about riding his face like the Kentucky Derby.

“You’re a pal, Steve.” She exhaled.

“Okay, are you watching?” Nat asked.

“Yes.”

Nat didn’t ask Steve if he was ready, she just launched herself at him like the Russian Goddess of Doom that she was. She got great lift and in a fluid motion, swung her legs around his shoulders, arched up and turned so they were around his neck and took him to the ground—her thighs on either side of his face.

“See? It’s all in the legs. Just like that. You need to get a good mount.”

Good mount? Oh, for fuck’s sake. She wasn’t going to blush. There was no reason to blush. She was adult. She was sexually active. She’d been buying her own condoms since—she was blushing.

From the expression on Nat’s face, she’d done it on purpose.

She let Steve up and he nodded to Darcy. “Your turn.”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” Darcy bit her lip.

“You’re kidding, right? I’m going to spend the rest of the day telling Clint how nice it is flat on my back under his girl and under you. Bring it, doll.” He winked at her. “If you break me, I’ll heal.”

She got a running start. Darcy jumped and launched herself at him, but didn’t quite make his shoulders. She’d managed to wrap her legs around his waist and shove his face in her cleavage. Then she slipped.

Luckily, or maybe not so luckily, he caught her.

By her ass. One cheek in each hand.

And she’d probably creamed her panties.

Would the humiliation ever end? Probably not.

Natasha cackled. It wasn’t a giggle, or a little smirk, but a full on wicked witch cackle. With snorting. “I guess you could take him down that way. He’d suffocate to death.”

Steve looked up from her breasts. “Can’t say I’d fight back.”

She blushed. Ugh. She had to stop doing that. Boys didn’t make her blush. Men didn’t make her blush. But Steve Rogers did.

He released her and when she wouldn’t meet his eyes, he tilted her chin up with his finger. Sexiest thing ever, which made it harder to look at his face. “Hey, no worries, right? Try again.”

“I didn’t expect to get it the first time. I mean, who does?”

“I know I didn’t. Even after I got this body. That’s why they call it training. And I know what it’s like to be laughed at. This, here? We’re just giving you a hard time. Nat wouldn’t be here if she didn’t believe in you.”

She knew that he did understand. Darcy couldn’t imagine what it was like for him and how many times he’d kept getting up, kept going back, kept trying even after he'd been knocked in the dirt.

Darcy was going to do this. There was nothing she couldn’t do. She was Darcy freaking Lewis—Taser Goddess.

Of Doom.

“Push off like this,” Natasha said and showed her a different foot placement.

She tried again. This time, when she launched herself, she caught air. It was like flying. Darcy swung for the fences, wrapping her legs around him. She spun and they hit the ground. Elation burst through her.

Until she realized that she hadn’t landed with her thighs on his shoulders, but she was straddling his ears.

“Thor, if you can hear me, strike me dead with a thunderbolt, right now. Please,” she whispered.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ****"Plush" in reference to ladybits is technically 1800’s slang, but I couldn’t find anything from the 30s or 40s that didn’t make me giggle my ass off or that I could hear him saying.

 

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

“You two are so lucky it’s me here instead of Clint.” Natasha kept cackling. “I have to say, I don’t think I’ve ever killed a man with my—”

No, what was lucky was that he was wearing his uniform and his cup hid his raging erection.

Being buried face first in her breasts? He hadn’t been kidding. She could smother him to death and he wouldn’t put up a single bit of struggle. And having her ass in his hands? That was enough to make him swear.

Their current circumstances?

His mouth watered and he was having a hard time not just slipping his tongue out to taste her. The faint scent of her was sheer, unadulterated torture.

He clasped his hands around her hips, and his first instinct was to anchor her against his mouth and lick her until she screamed his name.

But he knew she was embarrassed—mortified was probably the more correct term. He didn’t know how to reassure her without sounding like a jerk himself. Just because she’d sat on his face didn’t mean it was an invitation to commentary about what exactly he’d like to do to her.  _Yeah, doll, it’s okay you’re straddling my face because I want to lick you like an ice cream cone._ No, that wasn’t okay.

Nat was still cackling and Darcy was frozen.

_Like ice cream._

_Stop it_ .

He picked her up easily, sliding her back down to where she was supposed to be. Her face was so red it looked like it had been painted with a brush.

“Good job,” he said.

“You’re kidding me, right?” She gulped, and wouldn’t look at him. He wasn’t about to make her.

“No, not at all. You took me down. It was great for your second attempt. Come on, let’s try again.”

She squirmed and his grip tightened unwittingly. “That’s enough of that, though.”

“Oh, did I hurt something?”

He laughed. “No. Not at all. Just… let’s try again.”

Steve couldn’t have her shimmying herself on top of him or he was going to forget that he was a good guy, the gentleman. He was going to forget Nat was watching them. He was going to forget everything but feeling her move like that against him.

“You really don’t ever give up, do you?” Darcy stood and smoothed her hands down her thighs.

He followed suit. “Nope. Never. And neither should you.”

She just shook her head and Nat was trying desperately to stop laughing. But Darcy wouldn’t stop looking at her feet.

“Hey, Darce?” He normally wouldn’t speak this way, but he wanted her to be at ease. No matter what he wanted from her, he didn’t want her to be embarrassed. He knew what that felt like. Remembered what it was like and he wouldn’t inflict that on anyone who didn’t have it coming.

“What?” she asked miserably.

“That’s not the first plush I’ve seen, or had my face in. So, forget it and let’s move on. Okay, doll?”

 Nat couldn’t breathe. She coughed and spluttered. “Did you—“

“And I’ll thank you to keep that to yourself, Miss Romanov.” He eyed her sternly.

She was all Nat again. “I have to say, I think I like it when you’re all disapproving like that. Maybe I’ll tell Clint to try it.”

He smirked. “Especially if you tell him it’s because of me. That would stick in his craw.”

“It sure would.” She grinned back, effectively breaking the tension.

“Okay, I think I’m ready to try again,” Darcy said, rubbing her hands together.

“That’s my girl,” Steve encouraged her.

He braced himself for her assault and indicated that he was ready. She met his eyes and he hoped the look that he gave her was reassuring. He remembered what she said about feeling that nothing bad could happen to her because he was there. He wanted her to feel the same about this.

_I’ll catch you._

_I won’t let you fall._

_You’re safe._

He willed her to feel those things from him. He wanted to say them, but words meant little compared to actions.

She ran at him again and took him down smooth. Just as she was supposed to. Thighs on his shoulders and not his ears.

He couldn’t help but think this was a mighty fine view as well. Both he’d be remembering later while having some one on one time with that beast in his cup. Damn, but he wished it would lie down and be silent. He really wanted to be the good guy here and perving out on her while she trusted him to do this really wasn’t the way.

The smile on Darcy’s face was jubilant. “I did it!”

“You did. For your next lesson, we should try it while Steve’s fighting back.”

The grin melted.

“Not today, though. Today, you’ve earned your good job and a rest until tomorrow. I want you to practice and we’ll have another session next week.”

“We have to do this again?” Darcy asked.

“We don’t have to, but if you want to get really good at it…” Natasha shrugged.

She sighed. “I do. I want to be good.”

“And you will be. You did great today. Really. You’re learning quickly.” Nat eyed her. “And you know I’m not nice enough to tell you that if I didn’t mean it.”

"I can keep working with you, Darce.” Steve offered. It wasn’t an altogether altruistic suggestion either.

 Natasha snickered. “Yeah. You can go to Steve’s later and you can practice.”

 “You’re never going to let me forget this, are you?”

 “No, but I’m going to tell anyone either.” Nat gave her a soft smile. “I need to get some paperwork off my desk. I’ll see you guys later.”

 The woman just seemed to know when you make a good exit. “You could, you know.”

 “I could what?” Darcy cocked her head to the side.

 At least she was looking at him. That was a good sign. “Come to my place. Practice.” Shit, that had sounded so much smoother in his head.

 “Really? You’d do that?”

 “Sure.” Oh, he was a first class dick on that one.

 “So, can I ask you a question?”

 “You just did.”

 She raised a brow and scowled. “Fine. It’s of a personal nature and you’ll probably tell me to shut up and mind my own business and never want to talk to me again. But I’m dying to ask you. And you _can_ tell me to shut up and mind my business, but I’ll still wonder.”

 “So you want permission to ask me something that you think I don’t want to answer but you’re going to ask anyway?” He cocked his head to the side.

 “That sums it up.” She nodded.

 He knew what she was going to ask. He exhaled heavily. “No, I’m not a virgin. No, I don’t want that broadcast around your Book of Face, or to the other Avengers. No, I’m not telling you how many, but yes, it’s probably more than you think. Satisfied?”

 She grinned. “Not nearly. But it’ll do for now.” She pursed her lips. “But, it’s Facebook. Not Book of Face.”

 “I know. I just like saying it that way better.”

 “You’re kind of ornery, aren’t you?”

 “A little bit.” He winked at her. “Thanks for noticing.”

 He liked that she did that to him. He found himself smiling around her all the time. Grinning. Enjoying. For so long, it had seemed like he didn’t have any reason to smile.

 “You’re welcome. I think?”

 “It’s a good thing. I’m just Captain America to so many people. But I’m Steve too. I’m a person. The icon is just a character, you know?”

 “I think I do. Thanks for not making a big deal out of…” She gestured. “That.”

 “It wasn’t a big deal.” He shrugged. “Come by later. I have a dojo in my apartment. It’ll keep us from prying eyes. And ears. Then maybe we’ll have something to show Natasha next week.”

 “If I don’t kill you first.”

 Steve found himself laughing again. “Captain America survived Hydra and Hitler only to be brought low by magnificent cleavage.” He could’ve mentioned her quim, as Loki called it, but decided against it. Death by quim. He could only hope that was in his future.

 “You think it’s magnificent?”

 Nut up or shut up, as Tony had often said to him. “Are there people who don’t?” He supposed that wasn’t really an answer.

 “It’s just, when you talk to me, you talk to my face.”

 He narrowed his eyes. “And so should any man who speaks with you, Darcy. Interested or not.”

 “Well, _I_ know that. They don’t.” She shrugged, and he was mightily tempted to look down at the enticing globes. “I just don’t know what to make of you, Steve Rogers.”

 “Why don’t you let me take you to dinner so you can find out?” When she didn’t immediately respond, he added, “You should at least let me feed you before you ride my face again.”

 She blushed and slapped his arm. “Dick.”

 “Sometimes.” He nodded, owning it. “But how about tonight, say seven?”

 “Okay.” She bit her lip. “But just to clarify, this _is_ a date right?”

 “Yeah, Darce. This is a date. Unless that’s too old fashioned for you?” he teased.

 “I’ll let you know.”

 She turned and sashayed back out of the gym and Steve watched every single swish of her hips until she was gone.

 And he wondered just what the hell he was going to wear on his date that would hide his continuous salute to her glory. He wasn't embarrassed by it, but neither did he want to be nudging her all night. He wanted to date her, wanted to know her. Sex was easy. It was the relationship that was the hard part. Well, metaphorically, anyway. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I'm not done with this fic, but suddenly want to write a fic where Darcy has named her showerhead "Steve" and JARVIS thinks that if she's crying out for him, she must need him. 
> 
> Also, if you're into these things, this is Darcy's dress: http://www.pinupgirlclothing.com/erin-dress-plum.html
> 
> And this is where Steve takes her: http://juniorscheesecake.com/our_restaurants/brooklyn/ (I was in NYC for a con and I ate at the one on Times Square way more than I should've. Best freaking coffee, and the cheesecake? Dude. I will be taking some liberties with the restaurant in the next chapter to suit my evil plan.

 

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

 

Darcy Lewis had a date with Steve Rogers.

On what planet did that happen?

She remembered her conversation with Jane and Natasha the day previous. It was Nat who’d suggested she go to Steve’s and Steve who’d asked her out without any prodding at all.

Or maybe Nat had prodded him? She’d threatened him with the thigh trick.

Although, he didn’t seem to be too intimidated by the thigh trick. He rather seemed to…maybe…enjoy it? He laughed with every take down. Even the ones that didn’t involve her.

And sitting on his face.

_Christ._

Her face flamed when she thought about what it had felt like having her thighs spread and his gorgeous face positioned just-so… She had to cross her legs. Or name her showerhead Steve. Both were an option at this point.

Further, what was she going to wear? Jane would be absolutely no help with this proposition. She didn’t pay much attention to how she looked. Thor seemed to enjoy her the way she was.

She didn’t want to bother Natasha. Nat had already done enough.

He liked pinup, so she could surely find something to wear. Except, she didn’t only want to be sexy to him—she didn’t want to be a sex pot. She liked that he looked at her like a whole person and not just a great set of knockers. Even though they were pretty fabulous.

How did one manage to be sexy and demure at the same time?

For fuck’s sake, what was she even worried about? He asked her out because he liked her. He looked at her face when he spoke to her. She didn’t need to worry about “catching him.” She should just go and enjoy her time with the guy she liked and not worry about the rest of it.

Of course, that was definitely easier said than done. Butterflies were slam-dancing in her belly, crashing into each other so hard she thought she was going to puke.

She supposed the real question was did he put out on a first date? And did she want him to?

Well, duh. Of course she wanted him, but maybe things could wait. She didn’t want to screw this up. She wanted to know him, maybe actually have a relationship.

On the other hand, (she wondered how many hands she needed at this point to weigh out all the pros and cons…she’d be like Kali. But if Thor was real, maybe Kali was too. Maybe she was listening.  _Shut up, Darcy_ . Back to the point.) they’d been invaded by aliens. She’d almost died. Everyone almost died. It could happen tomorrow. Did she want to die having never known what it was like to get star-spangled by Captain America?

No. The answer was an emphatic no.

Fancy knickers it was, then.

And the plum wiggle dress she’d been saving for just such an occasion. If he managed to talk to her face after the cleavage she was packing in this dress, he’d have to be awarded the Medal of Honor or something. That was a superhuman feat because she kind of found herself staring at her own cleavage in that dress.

It was that smokin’.

Darcy finished her makeup, even her lipstick a velvet matte plum that matched her dress and shoes. The best part about her lipstick? It was practically shellac.  She’d have to chip it off with sculpture tools. Which meant it would hold up whatever she wanted to do to it.

The butterflies were still slam dancing. They barfed on each other when the knock reverberated through her door. But at least that made them lie down and it allowed her to summon some composure.

Even though she was nervous, this was fun. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time.

She opened the door.

“Darce, you’re stunning.” He gave her the slow and easy once over, but met her eyes when he spoke.

If that wasn’t just a gentleman, she didn’t know what was.

“So are you.” She smiled. He was wearing a navy three piece suit that had to have been custom tailored just for him. Of course he was.

Her mouth watered and went dry at the same time.

“It works?” He cocked a brow. “Clint tried to get me to wear jeans and combat boots with a button down.” He wrinkled his nose.

“Clint?”

“You didn’t know this was Natasha’s evil plan all along? We’re just her minions.”

“Maybe it was  _my_ evil plan all along.”

“I like that better.” He presented his arm and she placed her hand in the crook of his elbow.

Sparks shot electric and hot through her at the contact.

He walked her down to the garage where a driver was waiting for them. “Well, this is fancy.”

“Yeah, about that. I was thinking a quiet evening so we could really talk. Stark may have bought the restaurant for the night.”

“Tony knows too? Does everyone?”

“Did you expect they wouldn’t?” Steve slid into the darkened interior of the car.

“No, I suppose not. I thought that maybe we might have a few days to ourselves first?” She pursed her lips. “I mean, what if this is a horrible travesty?”

“Why would you say that?” He seemed more curious than offended.

“Well, I do say fuck an awful lot.” Something about the look on his face and all of her fear was gone. All that was left was the anticipation.

“I thought you said nothing bad could happen to you while I was around? And having this be a travesty? Well, that would be bad. I have plans for you, gorgeous.”

“Oh really?” She looked up at him, lights from the passing streetlamps illuminating his face. “Would those be of a supervillain nature?”

He flashed her a grin that seemed to light up his whole face. “Most definitely.”

She decided she simply didn’t want to wait any more to feel his mouth on hers. She had to know.

Darcy unbuckled her seat belt.

“Ma’am, you should keep your safety device fastened while the automobile is in motion.” But he was hauling her up into his lap while he spoke.

She laughed and tilted her face up to his, expectant. So very aware of his big hand on the curve of her hip.

“And for your safety, I suggest you kiss me.”

“Oh, indeed?” He leaned oh-so close to her lips. “The kissing part is supposed to come later.”

“Lots of things…come later,” she drawled and then noticed she was sitting a bit higher than she had been before.

He was so hard and hot pressed up against her. They weren’t going to make it to the restaurant. Nope. And she was fine with that.

“Next thing you know, you’ll be telling me this is your patriotic duty.”

She could feel his breath on her lips, taste what would be in his kiss. Clean, mint, and…

“And I would say it most definitely is,” he said and then closed that final space between them.

If she’d thought the touch of their hands was electric, his kiss was like a tsunami. Her whole body was on fire for him, and this reaction to only the touch of his lips.

He deepened the kiss, tasting her, and angled her head back cupped in his hand, his fingers in her hair.

He could move her as he wished, pose her so easily. She was small and breakable in his hands, but she’d never felt safer or more turned on. Darcy braced her hands on his shoulders, but that wasn’t enough. She moved to explore him beneath the jacket and he was oh so hot to the touch.

The damn dress was too tight. She was wishing she’d worn one of the swing dresses so she could move around more, get closer to that rock hard cock that was all for her.

He broke the kiss, but still held her close. His hand cupping her jaw. “We’re not going to make it to the restaurant if you keep kissing me like this.”

“Just doing my patriotic duty.” She grinned, a little bit dazed, but still on fire for him.

“Dinner first,” he said in his most serious and stern voice.

“I’ve changed my mind,” she gasped. “You can ma’am me and Captain America me all you want.”

“You like it when I tell you what you to do?”

“I do. Can’t say I’ll do it, but I like how you sound when you tell me.”

He laughed. “This is why dinner comes first. I like you, Darce. I don’t want to fuck this up.”

“You said fuck. Say it again.” It was a word she loved. A word she used every day. But hearing it out of his mouth was like some kind of sacrilege and she needed it again.

“Nope.” He smiled and pecked her lips. Then he moved to her cheek, his lips lingering, then moving to her ear. “Not until I’ve got you naked beneath me.”

Heat rushed to her face, her clit, even her toes. “What if I want to be on top?” she breathed.

“If you mean like earlier, then I won’t be able to talk. A gentleman doesn’t talk with his mouth full.”

“You really are ornery.” She squirmed. “But so am I, Steve.” She decided that it was both a threat and a promise. 

Their interlude was interrupted when the car pulled to a stop in front of the restaurant.

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a bit filthier than I'd intended. So I think the Cap should give me a stern (verra, verra stern) talking to and a spanking. *grin* You too for reading it, my pretties. Hehehe. Thanks for being so welcoming to this new-to-me fandom and I'm definitely writing the showerhead story, but it might be after the hols. I've got day job writing due on the 1st and I might, maybe, have been putting it off by playing in my new sandbox with other people's action figures. 
> 
> Also, the ending is... not where I expected it would be, but I think it fits. Or shit, I hope it does.

 

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 

 

When she said that she was ornery too, Steve had believed her. She’d always had that rather devious sparkle in her eyes.

But he hadn’t realized just how devious.

He’d never seen a woman eat a piece of cheesecake like this one.

He was trying his damndest not to think about or with his cock.

But watching the way her lips wrapped around the fork so slowly and with such abject pleasure, well, that was just too much. Her pink tongue flicked at the creamy delight and he almost groaned aloud. All he could imagine was those lips, his cock…

“Darcy, you’re making it really hard to do the right thing here.”

She paused, eyes flicking back and forth from the cheesecake to his face with a feigned wide-eyed innocence. “Really, Steve? How hard am I making it?”

She didn’t even have to emphasize the “hard.”

Not when she took another bite of cheesecake. Her lipstick was still this perfect matte velvet plum, even after she licked her lips.

Again, all he could see was what it would be like having her lips on him, sliding up and down the length of his shaft, her long lashes dusting her cheeks while she worked, the head of his cock on the inside of her cheek… or with her lovely eyes open, looking into his eyes while she swallowed him whole.

“I don’t think you understand just what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I think I understand very well.” Those decadent lips curved in a smile.

“I want to tell you something. Come here,” he ordered in his best, most authoritative voice.

She put her fork down and eyed him expectantly, then she laughed. “Oh, Rogers. Please don’t tell me you think that’s going to work? 'Come here, I have something to show you, little girl.' I’m not falling for that.”

“No, I really do want to tell you something. It’s the answer to the question you wanted to ask, but I didn’t really answer.” His fingers itched to touch her again, but he’d control himself. He’d give her something to think about, something that would make her just as wet as he was hard.

He licked his lips thinking about that. Yeah, that was the first thing he was going to do when he got her naked. No, second. First, he was going to memorize her so he could draw her, then he was going to lick her until she begged him to stop. He’d taste her, drown in her, until he couldn’t remember the taste, the scent, the feel of anything but her.

And he wanted to make her feel the same about him.

She leaned over the table. “This is as close as I’m getting.”

“Why? Don’t trust me or yourself?”

She blushed. “Honestly? Me. You’re the good guy.”

“Want to hear how bad I can be?”

She leaned farther over the table, her luscious cleavage on proud display. If he were a lesser man, he would’ve forgotten how to speak. “Damn, Darcy. I love looking at you.”

She blushed. “Is that all you wanted? A better view?” She picked up the fork again and licked the tines oh-so slowly, giving each one its attention in turn.

“You know what it’s like dealing with scientists. How rare is it that Jane, Bruce, or even Tony get a new toy and they don’t test it to its limits? They don’t push it until they damn near break it?”

She paused. “Jane usually does break them. Then rebuilds.” She cocked her head to the side.

“And don’t they test every capability of their new tool?”

“I…” she stopped mid sentence and raised a brow. “Does that mean what I think it means?”

“I am super human in every way, Darcy.”

Her eyes widened, he could see her pulse speed up at the hollow of her throat. “Every way?”

"So you want to hear more? Come closer,” he invited.

 The restaurant had been cleared for only them, the windows covered and all the staff, but the chef belonged to Stark. They’d had their meal, and the beginning of their dessert, so when Darcy rose slowly, he nodded at the server to give them privacy.

 She slid into his lap and the lights dimmed, leaving them with only the candles on several surrounding tables dancing and flickering like fireflies.

 “Well aren’t you smooth?” she teased, but her voice was throaty and low.

 “Not so much, no. I was going to dance with you, hold you by candlelight. But instead, I’m going to tell you a story.”

 “You can hold me by candlelight next time. I’d like that.”

 “You can have that instead of the story.” But he had one hand around her waist and one on her stockinged knee where her dress had ridden up.

 She wiggled to get comfortable, grinding against him. She was breathless and leaned into him. “Maybe another time when I can look into your eyes and see all the pretty things you want me to see instead of wondering if the face you make you when you come is the same face you make when you’re handing down Avenger justice.”

 “Maybe you’ll give me the answer to that tomorrow?” His hand slid up her knee to her thigh where he realized she was wearing thigh-highs. He had to admit, he liked a woman in stockings. He liked _this_ woman in stockings.

 “I don’t know,” she said, breathless. “Maybe I was just going to wind you up and leave you at the door.”

 “Maybe you should,” he whispered against the shell of her ear, sliding his hand even higher between her pretty, soft thighs. “And I’ll call you and tell you how I’m remembering this moment. Right here. Right now. All the dirty details of the sordid things I had to do to myself…”

 Her hand wandered beneath his jacket, her could feel her little nails digging at his back through the material.

 “Tell me now.” She pressed her lips against his cheek. “Tell me what you promised.”

 “Are you sure you want to know?” He was all serious now. Most women didn’t care to know that the man they were about to be intimate with had had as many partners as he had—prostitutes.

 He wanted to keep this moment, wanted to keep her like this, lush and wanting. Needing him.

 She arched forward, spreading herself to allow him more access, the dress hiking up even higher to reveal the pretty lace tops of the thigh highs he’d been enjoying.

 Steve stroked his fingers across the lace of her damp, silk panties. She quivered in his arms. “Tell me. Please,” she begged.

 “They took me to a brothel.” He dragged his cheek against hers, keeping his lips never very far from her ear. “And for three days—” he slipped his fingers beneath the silk to push one inside of her wet heat while the other strummed her clit. “—we tested the limits of this body.”

 “Three?” she gasped as he increased the pressure.

 He studied her face, watched her as her need washed over her. It was a beautiful sight, like watching the tide, but knowing it was his will that brought it to shore. That was a heady thing.

 “I didn’t sleep. I didn’t eat. All I did was—” Steve leaned closer to her mouth now so that their lips were only a breath apart “— _fuck_.”

 Her hips jerked toward him and she cried out, his fingers slick with her need.

 She murmured something unintelligible.

 “Still want to know more, pretty Darcy?”

 “Three?” she managed.

 “Three.” He pushed a second finger inside of her, and then a third. Her sheath was so tight around his fingers and he moved slowly, still moving his thumb over her clit. “Like what they taught me, doll?” She didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect her to. “You’re so tight, but you need this to take me. _Super. Human_.”

 She began riding his fingers, rolling her hips. “Please, Steve.”

 “Please what?”

“Please don’t stop. More. Tell me more, give me more.” She’d braced her palms on his shoulders now, obviously interested in nothing but this heat between them. “Tell me what you liked best.”

 “Being wanted.” He hadn’t meant to confess it, the truth of it. He should’ve said something else, anything else.

 Her eyes flew open and she searched his face. “You are. I won’t lie and say I don’t love your muscles. The way your body ripples when you move, but I’d be here with you even if you weren’t Captain Muscle-y.”

 “That’s easy to say now.”

 She nodded. “It is, but do you want me to not like your body?”

 “Hell no. I want you to come on my fingers, my cock, and love every minute of it.”

 “Then tell me what else you liked.” She leaned back, her head tilting and her glorious hair falling in a curtain as she rode him.

 “I’ve had a flair for linguistics. One might even say I was cunning.”

 He lifted her up on the table, giving not a single damn about the plates on the table. He’d worry about them later. Darcy allowed him to move her as he wished, trusted him completely. With that in mind, he remembered to grab the candle before he swept the plates onto the floor.

 Darcy giggled and bit her lip, but she spread herself before him, just as he’d imagined. Then also as he’d imagined so many times, he tugged her panties down her legs and dipped his head. She’d propped herself up on her elbows to watch him and he met her eyes.

 “How much can you take, Darcy? How much do you want?”

 “Everything.”

 “Tell me. Say the words.”

 “So I’m not the only one who likes dirty talk?” She arched a brow, suddenly in control of herself again.

 He couldn’t have that. He needed her breathless, wanting, and a slave to the heat that would own them both.

“Tell me how you want me to fuck you after I taste you.”

 She gave a delicate shudder. “First, here on the table. Hard and fast.” He bent his head and touched his tongue to her cleft, delving deep between hot, slick folds and drawing up to encircle her clit. “Then—” she gasped and strained, trying to get closer to his mouth “then again in your bed, and bent over your desk, and… _oh_.”

 She tasted like he knew she would, all woman and just a hint of honey. He took his time, reveling in not only having hot, sweet woman under his tongue, but at the pleasure he wrought in her. Every sound, every sigh, every buck of her hips was something he committed to memory. Each flick of his tongue and flex of his fingers, and he figured out exactly what she needed—what she wanted. He wanted to learn to play her body like a fine instrument and bring only bliss forward with a strum of his fingers or flick of his tongue. He played her well, learning when to pull back, how to draw her out, push her higher.

 Darcy begged so prettily, with her nails in his shoulders and the undulations of her body against his mouth and he relented—surrendering to his own desire to have the proof of her bliss on his tongue.

 Pride surged in his chest when she orgasmed for him, but it was nothing compared to the surge in his cock.

 While she was still riding the aftershocks, he pulled her forward on the table so she was right on the edge.

 “You still want this, Darcy?”

 “God, yes.” She reached forward, her fingers nimble on his belt. “Remember what I said,” she demanded, still breathless and flushed. “Hard and fast. We can explore your four day sexcapade when we’re done here.”

 “Three,” he corrected, pushing his cock against her slick heat.

 She hooked her legs around his waist and pulled herself forward, hissing a breath as he filled her. “It may kill us both, but _we’re_ going for four. Unless aliens invade. Or…” He used her hips to pull her flush against him so he was buried to the hilt. “I’ve just been invaded. Dear _hell_.”

 Steve didn’t want to hurt her. Some of the women before couldn’t take his girth. “Should I—”

 “You don’t take orders well. How were you in the army? Hard and fast, soldier. Like I said.” Her eyes sparkled. “You’re not going to break me, Steve. _Fuck me_.”

 “Yes, ma’am.” That was one order he could follow.

 She was so hot, so wet and so _his_. This moment right here was what he wanted the most. Looking into her eyes while she pulled him deep, this connection.

 This perfection.

 This was the one who’d been made for him—for Steve Rogers _and_ Captain America. He’d just had to wait seventy years to find her.

 On all of this green earth, there was no dame like Darcy Lewis.


End file.
